Get up and out with one simple aim and a simple route. Part one. Go to take a fast boat out to see a feck off huge Buddha carved out of the rock. 
Pretty impressive, though the smog is still distilling the experience under a blanket. Just as we’re about to leave, the guide gets a big bag of spanners out and throws them in the works. The original destination is pretty close and it’s still quite early so we’re going somewhere else a bit further out. “Don’t, whatever you do, take the 307. Military road, big trouble, keep away”. Pardon? Blah blah blah…confusion…lost in translation.. off we go… 
Ok. My satnav chooses this exact moment to fail. Won’t turn on. Was ok this morning… Fuckidy bollocks. Some people have the gamin cards and some have the open street maps loaded. They’re disagreeing, coupled with the fact that the same road number is used for at least 5 different roads, and the disaster recipe is almost complete. Time to stir.
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Pandamonium
My roomie is still not good. I think his red glowing ring resulted in another midnight emergency air drop of loo roles. This morning the toilet looked like it’s full of spent artillery shells. Empty rolls everywhere and a ferocious fart fog hanging in the air. Tonight though he is feeling well enough to clip his toenails. I have a phobia about nail clippings. Ever since I found a fingernail clipping in a curry… He is merrily clipping away and pieces are flying around the room like shrapnel. Shit, there goes a mirror. Bugger, that was close. There’s a big toenail embedded in my headboard. Ping, bollocks, there’s the TV now. This is going to cost us a fortune.
China has been really monotonous so far and it’s really getting to me. That and the hawking. Dirty fuckers. They all walk about sounding like they’re preparing snot cappuccinos before putting a finger on one nostril and launching huge bogie bombs onto the pavement. 
Dirty dirty feckers. Anyway – we saw some more of the wall yesterday along side the road, playing hide and seek suddenly running away into the distance and disappearing then later reappearing peaking over a mountain before disappearing again. The word is there are big sections near here so I enter into negotiations with the guide to go off piste and hunt it out.
To the Wall
Nowmansland is a free for all across the very top or the pass. Lorries 2 and 3 abreast crawling up and over with the bikes in close attendance, like little pilot fish running the channels. Get to the gate and wait for the guide to meet us from the other side. China is obviously a bureaucratic minefield where personal vehicles are involved but this has all been checked and organised well in advance. The guide appears and shakes hands through the bars. Part one complete. One o’clock, opening time. Ride up to the gate. If your name isn’t down, you’re not coming in. He looks at his list.. his finger goes down… down… nearly at the bottom… and stops. Looks up, and points…into China. I’m in! UK to China is done and I’m in. 
Weird feeling. On trips likes these you bump into all sorts of people on really epic journeys. I met an Aussie the other night in a yurt. He was from Alice Springs of all places. He’s trying to travel back to Aus purely by public transport and he has been all over. All the stans except Afghanistan which he says is possible. He’s even grown a huge beard for it! So… getting to China isn’t such a massive achievement but we all do what we can I guess. I’m very happy to have got here anyway and it’s not on most people’s biking route. Continue reading To the Wall
Beautiful Kyrgyzstan
Kazakhstan border, I’m expecting it to be easy. Usually it’s easy out and difficult in. Usually. At the Kazakhstan border one of the lights is out on a gantry so even though it’s 10am and everyone is wearing welding masks because it’s so bright, they’ve got to fix it straight away. Now. So they close the border to traffic, reverse a big lorry up, put a ladder on top of the lorry, then throw a rope over the gantry and send a trained monkey up to change the bulb. I’m sweating hard, properly dripping. My boots are overrunning like a bath with the taps on full. Fark. Even the flies are stiting in the shade with their wings up. Its a no fly zone.
This is when its most dangerous. My temper is knocking at my mouth trying to get a word in. Never a good sign. Sign fixed and working, pat tested, inspected, double checked and signed off in triplicate. Open again. This should only take a minute….or so. Lots of people cross on foot at this border. Get in the queue. Everyone is about 2ft tall round here and it feels like I’m wading about up to my waist in people soup. Form a queue at a booth that looks like it’s about to open. Blokey has gone in but nothing is happening. I can see him on the computer inside. 5 mins. 10 mins. I think he doesn’t have a computer at home and he’s checking his mail. 15 mins. Now he’s on twitter. 20 mins.
Across the plains..
Last night I met up with the other riders. They left a week before me and took a different route. Another 5 riders and 1 pillion so not a big group. One more to join us on the China border. Mixture of bikes and riders. I arranged to meet them at the big bridge over the Volga this morning. Get to the bridge and there are traffic lights, it’s being resurfaced. Tits. I go to the front of the queue of buses. My spider sense is tingling telling me somethings not right. I get a tap on the back from a police baton. “Niet”. Bollocks. They’re only letting buses over. I’ve got to go miles up river to the next bridge. I decide to wait for the others on this side so do a quick detour down and under the bridge then turn right past a no entry sign directly into the path of ….. two policemen that have just left the police station I’m now pointing at. Ummmm. Smile to max brightness, fawn mode on, quickly swallow a portion of humble pie and start sucking. They’re obviously not pleased. Russian is bitch when it comes at you thick and fast … and loud … with spit. I have absolutely no clue what the fuck they’re on about. Do I bend over and pull my pants down? Do I go down on my knees, open my mouth and close my eyes? Do I get the special police gimp mask out? What? I pull on the gimp mask. Niet, that doesn’t work. Ok, ok. I bend over. Niet, not that either. I’m trying to explain that I want to wait for my mates in their ‘naughty area’. That at least gets their attention back. I’m trying to wait where they’re pulling people over and beating them to pass the time of day but they’re not having it. Its all getting out of hand so I just ride off before they can bump start a police car and follow. So, I’m off for another day alone on the road.
It’s lovely and sunny and warm and the countryside is flat in all directions. I didn’t think the roads could get any more shit but they do. Very impressive indeed. 200 miles standing up the whole way today, calfs on fire.
Get out of Russia easy peasy and it’s in to Kazakhstan in a flash.
Continue reading Across the plains..
Rush across Russia
Ok. Here we go into mother Russia. I thought I might be more apprehensive. Maybe later. The roads up to borders are often shit and this one is no exception. It looks like your average city pavement covered in chewing gum. Patches on patches on patches. I bought some 2nd hand Ohlins a couple of years ago off a dodgy scouser on eBay. His idea of ‘new’ was ‘new to you’ and these had already been well used. I got them serviced before I set out on this trip. I guess you simply don’t see how good these things really are until you’re riding over Tarmac like this. Keeping all the bumps from my bum. Luuuuuvery. Wouldn’t fancy this road in the winter though. So, out of Latvia in a minute with a ‘good luck’. Rock up to the Russian border and join the queue. 
Well the Russians aren’t rushin that’s for sure. It’s a simple process but it’s not a short one. Especially if you’re behind 3 cars traveling together that comprise 10 nationalities, include several stolen children, a boot full of ivory and a cat with ebola. And thats just the start of it. The motley crew is taking so long to process that I’m moved to a different lane. Stage 1 takes 10 minutes but then I get to customs. There’s me, and there’s this dodgy looking bloke driving a German registered Merc. He’s not German. The woman in the booth has her eyes on stun and Mr Dodge is clearly turning up the heat. The Russian is getting faster and louder by the minute. Continue reading Rush across Russia
Heading far east
Here we go again. Walking the tarmac tightrope and heading for the horizon. Ditching the desk and running for the hills. Ten weeks, two wheels, 10000 miles. A few months ago I opened the door, looked in the stable and thought about what I should throw my saddle over. KTM 990 SMT with a hooligan kit and a very bad temper. R1100S with 170k and looking like a victim of a chainsaw massacre, split into big component parts and sitting on shelves. R1150GSA with 110k and a passport full of stamps. “I need a new bike” I think to myself. As if reading my mind, I hear some soft sobbing from behind me. Turn around and see a small puddle of metal tears under my old GSA. “All right old girl. One more time”. Decision made.
It’s simple plan. Distance: Far. Direction: East. UK to Bangkok. If you’re a fan of turgid, dry, humorless, self indulgent shit then you’ve come to the rigfht place, please enjoy:) Might keep your eyes busy for 30 minutes at least and if you can get through to the end I’ll send you a congratulatory ‘boredom endurance’ certificate for your efforts and to in some way compensate you for wasting your life:)
I do realize what a very very lucky bastard I am to be able to do these kinds of trips. I really do. I’m a very lucky bastard indeed, in fact I’m thinking of changing my name to Mr V V V L Bastard. I hope the following doesn’t appear blasé or dismissive. It’s not intended to be. I live on the edge of fantasy as I find reality hard to deal with in life so the lines between fact and fiction aren’t always obvious.
6:30 Sunday morning up and at ’em. Southampton to Soest. Out to Dover in the grey. Front of the queue with a couple of other bikers. “Where you off to?”, “Luxemborg, you?” “Bangkok”. Silence, of the ‘you taking the piss?’ variety. It’s strange how your mind rationalises things like this. Leave the house, turn left, follow black stuff till Bangkok. Forget about the scary places enroute. It will all be fine, just treat every day as it comes. I’m just happy to be moving, I really don’t care where, just as long as I’m moving.
Coast to Coast
I was quite sad to say goodbye to the others last night. The hard core group that came through everything and made it to the end. It takes a certain kind of person and I respect them all for that. There are some really nice people too. Maybe I’ll see some of them again, maybe not. They’re going to take a little longer to get back across to NY than me so that’s it, Adios, so long, over and out. I’ll really miss spending my days amongst them all.
I’m up at 4am. 3..2..1..Go. Let the madness begin. It’s nearly dawn, misty and cold. The sun’s dimmer switch is slowly unwinding and filling in the shadows but the mountains don’t give up their cloaks of darkness easily and it’s a slow ride up and out. Get onto the main road. It’s deserted, wide and inviting. ‘What have you got to loose?’ it whispers. This is the most dangerous time of the day. All the animals are returning home drunk from a night on the town and they’re liable to wobble out in front of you at any moment. I see a moose at the edge of the road, huge and statuesque with steaming coming off it’s back. Hit that on 4 wheels and its a car insurance claim. Hit that on 2 wheels and it’s a life insurance claim. Keep the speed down, resist the temptation to pull in the horizon as fast as possible. I’ve underestimated the temperature and I’m absolutely freezing. 120 miles in and I’m completely numb and shivering. It is 6:30 but none of the garages open this early. I can see people inside but they wont let a frozen biker in for a coffee and a warm up. I dig the heated waistcoat out the panniers and plug in then come slowly back to life as the sun climbs up and starts spreading it’s joy across the landscape.
USA to Alaska
Out of Douglas and we head north and quickly get to Tombstone, site of the famous ‘Gunfight at the OK Corral’. 
Why did they call it 
the ‘OK Corral’? “Hey, look at my shiny new corral. Do you like it?” “Well…it’s OK” You wouldn’t sink your lifetime savings into the ‘OK Cafe’ or ‘OK Ice Cream emporium” would you? Bonkers! On to the freeway toward Phoenix. After all the poverty and struggling we’ve seen in south and central America just to keep alive and to keep some sort of roof over your head then America just seems vulgar, vacuous and vain. Excess and waste is everywhere you look. Americans indulge themselves with as many toys, tits and tat as their chubby little hearts desire when just next door their neighbours struggle to get any pleasure out of life.
It can’t be right. Talking about vulgar, nothing exudes vulgarity like our destination today, Vegas. We peel off the freeway at Phoenix and head cross country, through vast plains of Joshua trees and up to the Hoover Dam. Across the top we go then descend out the mountains in the dark and into the warren that is Last Vegas then head straight for the strip. It’s always weird to ride your own bike down the strip, or anywhere that is so familiar but so far away. Last time I rode down here I nearly got deleted by a bus. This time is was closer, and much much more scary. 
We’re at some lights, there are masses of people thronging along the pavements as the stripside shows entertain the masses. The neon frenzy is on full and its a sensory overload. Lights change, I’m in front, I pull away. 1st….2nd… 3rd….. SHIIIIIIIIITTTTTT. Suddenly from one side two men emerge from the crowd on the opposite side running full speed across the road. They’re either drunk or they’ve just robbed someone. One is looking over his shoulder and the other is concentrating on getting away.
Mexico
I should have known…. Countries typically have a “can’t be arced” attitude to the areas close to their borders. Why waste time and money on things like the roads, signs and towns out here? Why encourage the people to live close to their richer neighbours? Take the road to the border, it looks a short and easy route on the map, looks quite straight too. Fact is, the cartographers couldn’t be bothered to put all the twists and turns in because there are just too many. Tarmac quickly turns to ‘tar-kak’ too.
All the signposts have been removed and smelted down and the towns are on big turntables so as soon as you go in it’s entirely possible for you to pop out at exactly the same place. It’s all just completely random and it makes the journey a long, hot and very frustrating ride to the border. We get out of Guatemala fine, now into Mexico. I know from previous experience what a compete ball ache this can be. First, fumigate the bike. My bike smells sweeter than I do it’s been fumigated so often. There is a bit of a ‘mix-up’ with getting the fumigation ticket. I come very close to deleting a Mexi’cant’ before being pushed out his office and having the door shut in my face. Continue reading Mexico